


Last words

by CrookedDormouse



Series: Last Words of Overwatch [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Also Pharah's squad is here, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Lena has a minor role, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, follows canon but with a soulmate twist on top, well unless future canon says otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 20:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10929933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrookedDormouse/pseuds/CrookedDormouse
Summary: The story was on your 18th birthday, the last words your soulmate says to you will appear on your skin.Finding your soulmate is something only known in tragedies, and Angela had enough of that.Life is tough enough without those words, but Fareeha is tougher.





	Last words

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to headcanon central where a simple Pharmercy fic lead to this.  
> Angela's P.O.V. first and then Fareeha's (simply because that's the order I wrote them in).  
> Major Character Death is canonical though there is the implied deaths through the soulmate words

When she was younger, she was fearless. Of course she learned to avoid the stove top, wolves, and the town when she was alone, but she never truly feared them. She knew there were reasons behind the warnings her parents gave her and also reasons why people sometimes had wolves for pets. She wasn't afraid, merely intrigued.

She would sit and study the stove as it grew hotter, observing how it boiled the water and decided on her own that her parents' warnings were warranted. She heard neighbors and family friends say that she was well behaved and that only made her wonder what other kids were like. She even took apart all of her toys once, wanting to learn what made them work. Her parents were so shocked to find her like that, bowed over a neatly opened doll.

After that, the neighbors and family friends began to call her a genius.

Her parents just called her Angela.

She liked that name better as her mother called her over for hot chocolate, as her father told his stories, and as they both told her that they loved her before heading to bed every night. Angela felt warm and loving as they said it, while “genius” or “prodigy” felt cold and unfeeling. “Genius” was spat out sometimes by other kids and “prodigy” was a white office with a large man staring down at her while her parents talked. Despite those names, she went to bed every night feeling safe. Even though she had seen the words on her parents' skin.

Everyone knew the story: On your 18th birthday, the last words that your soulmate says to you will be written on your body. Whenever another girl on the playground wondered what hers would say, Angela always wondered why. She would sometimes sit on her father or mother's laps and examine the words on their wrists. No matter how many times she traced them though, she couldn't understand.

She started to understand when the crisis began.

Those words that adored her parents' wrists were said, shouted, as the omnics descended upon their town and the “genius” could not do anything.

They managed to get her out, giving her another name, “lucky”. She did not feel lucky. She did not feel like a genius. She felt like Angela, who understood and wanted to prevent death.

  
-

Her new house years later was large to accommodate the many kids and the woman who lived there was nice, but Angela did not call it home. It was unfamiliar; Even though it took her one day to memorize her old school, after months she could still not find her way around the massive house. Half of her said that it was because she didn't have to live here, that her house and parents would be waiting for her if she went back. Another part of her said it was because she didn't belong here.

Despite knowing multiple languages, she couldn't talk to the other kids. While she noticed them grouping up together, she stood to the side and simply watched. There were groups of twos, threes, fours, all with their different styles and mannerisms that made Angela's head spin. She didn't understand them, so she took to leaning against the house's wall as the others played in the snow.

She had almost memorized their patterns when the woman approached her. Her German was rough and Angela could hear her clearly, yet she couldn't understand. The kindness in her voice and the gentle smile reminded Angela so much of her own mother.

So when she offered her hand, Swedish running down its side, Angela took it with a dour thought: Perhaps the woman was trying to replace her mother. Angela wouldn't let the woman take the image of her mother, even as she was given one of the cups of hot chocolate. The woman, however, did not try to. She just stood there, sipping her own mug as she and Angela sat down at the long table that was connected to the kitchen. It made Angela's curiosity reach from the back of her mind before she subdued it with a sip of her drink, letting her mind think of how much better her mother's hot chocolate was.

“Swiss chocolate is the best,” the woman agreed and shocked Angela, who didn't realize she had spoken her thought out loud.

“I...I...” She stammered, unsure of whether she wanted to stay mad at the woman or apologize.

“It's okay,” the woman's voice was soft-spoken now, even though she was capable of shouting above the roar that was the immensely loud dinner table. “You're okay, Angela.”

She finally cried in front of someone that night, some of her tears dripping into the hot chocolate before she allowed the woman to pull her into a warm hug while whispering and humming things that lessened the pain. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine her mother's hug before deciding that it didn't matter, this one was just as good.

 

-

Over time, Angela felt as if she had found her place again. She did not bother the other kids' order and stuck to herself, but this time it felt like it was a choice she made. Attempts were made but Angela found that she preferred quiet, numbers, and questions over the loud play styles of the groups. The woman even seemed to understand and while she did ask Angela to come out into the fresh air every so often, she would bring her books and gave her company and answers when the young genius needed them.

As she settled, the name came back again. She had begun to pass the older children in her studies, surprising everyone in the home. But the surprise came back around to her as the woman answered her intellect with a smile.

“My husband is coming home soon,” she said one night while she helped pack up Angela's notes. “I think you'll get along with him.”

She had heard her mention her husband before, but it was the first time they met and Angela's mind was not up for the task of remembering much other than the images burnt into her mind. The most she could conjure up was that he was fighting in the crisis, much like the soldiers that picked her up and carried her to safety. She had assumed that he would be like them, tall and somewhat menacing but kind inside.

She immediately marked down soon after meeting him that assuming things were not good without much evidence.

The husband was short, shorter than her at least, and had a wide smile as he greeted his wife and kids. His arm, the one that would hold their fate, was covered completely. Eventually he picked up on her examination and gave her a small 'hmph' when he noticed her confusion.

“You must be Angela,” his accent made his words more rough, but he still gave her a smile. “I hope you've been taking to it well?”

She stared at him an extra minute before realizing what he meant and nodded.

“Yes. It's...very nice here.”

He laughed and put his heavy hand on her shoulder.

“No need to be so polite! I've heard much about you from Elina!” Being this close, she could see in his eye that he was somewhat pained. “I heard you show a lot of potential.”

The man, Torbjörn, brought Angela around the house and near the back where she couldn't remember much from the tour. He talked much on the way there, mostly to his wife or to one of his kids that had asked a question. Angela stood by, but mainly observed him, the way that he carried himself definitely showed that he was a soldier despite the friendly setting and he smelled of something heavier than gun power. She was watching his covered eye when they stopped in front of large doors.

“My workshop,” Torbjörn stated with a sigh. “Used to spend all my time here.” He looked over at Angela and she wondered how old he was. “Be careful.” Before she could ask why, he opened the doors and her eyes widened.

Machinery was everywhere and the air seemed hot as she stepped inside along with him and Elina, who had taken her hand. The man walked over to the large workbench and gestured Angela to his side.

“I used to be like you, a thinker!” He pulled out several blueprints and allowed her eyes to look them over with awe until her stomach twisted with familiarity. Among one of the pages, an omnic was displayed with all of its capabilities. “Used to. Now I'm paying for it…. So are you, I suppose” He sighed and ran a hand through his beard. “But don't let my failures scare you, Angela. You are meant for great things.” He had a small smile as he looked over to her, settling some of her anxiety. “You just have to cultivate it right.”

When Angela was arranged to further her education and she made a promise to herself to only heal, never destroy.

 

-

 

School had breezed her by easily as she climbed higher and faster than others. Soon she was off to college and Torbjörn promised to send her messages to let her know how he was doing with the new foundation.

Overwatch, as Angela had overheard, was becoming a tightly knit group of international responders and icons of heroism. She saw the posters in the halls but never really took a long look, instead hurrying to her next class. Scientific news was more of her field and she was sticking to it, looking into biology and health related studies. From them, her ideas blossomed and with the help of her school, she was able to make her prototypes.

Nanobots, capable of healing the body faster than anything they had so far. They were her goal, but she knew there was more. Pouring herself into work, learning more about the human body and how she could aid it, made time slip from her. Her schedule was completely based on her assignments and any free time was allocated to working on her goal.

So when Torbjörn asked her to visit, she was ready to decline until he pointed out the date. Her 18th birthday. She supposed it was natural for her to take a small break, perhaps a week, for it. She also supposed it was mainly so that her guardian would be the first to know of her soulmate's fate. He loved gossip, even with his short visits in the past she could tell that.

She could tell his love never stopped when he gleefully approached her after her flight, asking if she was excited. But she never really thought of her soulmate before. Her passion was that of her studies more than any guy or girl that passed her by. Angela still smiled when Torbjörn replied with understanding and a friendly nudge.

The question still left her mind puzzled as she relaxed in her temporary room. She was curious where the words would appear and what they would say of course, but she could not reason with herself to be excited. She might never be with her soulmate if all she had to go on was their final words.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and waited for the alarm to go off before opening them again.

Not on her arms. Not on her legs.

The bathroom connected to the guestroom had a large enough mirror, allowing her to spot the writing instantly as she turned her head over.

Across her back, near the shoulder blades, neat, curved writing made her mouth go dry.

She pulled her clothes back on before flopping back into bed, her mind racing. The writing felt like it was burning, both into her mind and on her back. Of course, she had heard of very vague last words being worse than specific ones. She didn't understand it then, but now her soulmate's writing made her feel inexplicably sad. With specific words, many were able to prolong their deaths and even have their words change for the better. But Angela did not know what to do.

She had found her place in medicine, she had found her place in her home, but now the only name that had made her feel human now made her feel sorrow again.

“Angela” was now her love's downfall.

The most logical step would be to legally change her name, but her name was all she had left of her parents. She was at odds with herself; one side wanted to keep her name, after all she hadn't even thought of her soulmate until now, why should she give up her name for them, but the other side, the more emotional side, felt the deep wounds that were the writing along her back and told her to follow her heart.

Even after the small party and the trip back home, she still could not pick just one side. Instead she went completely into her work, ignoring the burning weight on her back.

  
-

 

They congratulated her once she had revealed the prototype and called her a different name, Dr. Ziegler. She felt the tonal shift as she accepted her degree. She was a doctor, but not just any, she was someone the world wanted. She began receiving several grants, offers, ideas, and even thanks. She was going to change the world for the better and so she joined Overwatch.

It was different than what she was used to, with the latest equipment and great authority, but the change was definitely for the better. Her work speed increased significantly, not being hindered by the title of student or the lack of certain processes available. She was able to create a full nanobot system and implants along her spine to insure complete control of her newly-fashioned Valkyrie suit.

Even still, she did not change, focusing on her work first, especially now since her patients happened to be some of the most called-upon soldiers. It was strange to heal up your own superior, especially so when some of them would refuse to take time off for their injuries. Luckily Commanders Morrison and Reyes had stopped after a while, leaving her to continue to badger Amari not to ignore the doctor's orders.

Nonetheless, she had grown comfortable with them; ironic, as her days were stressful and filled to the brim with projects, patients, and the like. She loved being able to laugh with Reinhardt, tinker with Torbjörn, have tea with Ana, discuss with Winston, chat with Jesse, and even talk to the newest recruits like Lena. Even if some days she could feel Genji's anger piercing her or could not save someone or feel like she simply couldn't live up to expectations, they, her newest family, were there.

Which made it hard to admit that she saw where they began to fall.

Jack and Gabriel fought.

Genji joined Blackwatch.

Gérard was found, dead.

His wife was gone.

Ana was gone.

The explosion.

Those were only some of the things that happened; Dr. Ziegler could count many more. She could count Jesse's arm, several others' losses, and the weaponization of her nanobots. It seemed selfish to include the last one but with her family torn apart, Torbjörn even leaving to do whatever he decided, the word on her back burned and made it hard to breathe.

When Overwatch became no more, Dr. Ziegler redacted her previous theory that over time the pain of loss numbs.

  
-

 

It was years before she heard from anyone. She had heard of them plenty, tales of a Crusader, a short man, or a cowboy roaming, but she never talked to any. Perhaps it was because of her own roaming that prevented many from talking to her or because of the slight part of her that made her choose a fake name before she began healing those in need.

Regardless, Genji still managed to find her. His apology and subsequent thanks made it easier to sleep at night. Not by much, but she was still glad that he had found peace with Zenyatta's help.

She supposed it would be too selfish to ask for the nightmares to stop, so she replied to say that she was fine. It was clearly the opposite when she heard the recall. She could not leave the urgent patients that she had to don a costume and deal with the people that she had since burned bridges with. People who she thought of as family. People who had betrayed her and many others. It hurt to think that her name was among them and only increased pressure on her back.

It was fascinating that the spine implants did not affect the pain whatsoever, but she did not like to linger on it for long. There were more important things than finding the reason behind the inescapable sorrow, like how the medical tents began to get targeted. The thought did not entrap her for long. Their company had already asked of the assistance of a security team, all she had to do was continue working and keep her pistol reluctantly close. That's all.

Instead, she was met with a ghost.

Captain Fareeha Amari looked so much like her mother, having grown into a tall soldier with a steady gaze. The Raptora suit did nothing but add to the calculated stance that she had while guarding, its royal blue and yellow shining brightly in the sun. She too often had to give the Captain more than one glance, her heart-rate skyrocketing as she caught sight of the tattoo adorning her eye.

But then they began to talk, and that was the hardest part.

At first it was a little awkward, having to find the place to switch between professional and casual. The Captain, however, was just as friendly as she was stern. Captain Amari managed to ground her before her thoughts carried her too far, with a certain tone that many soldiers probably thanked. The Captain managed to find time to ensure that she ate meals, joking that the “best doctor in the world” needed someone to give her a checkup every now and then. In return, Dr. Ziegler reprimanded her when she would push herself too far for others, even if the Captain insisted that it was for the greater good.

Stubborn, the doctor thought at first. Strong, came next as Captain Amari finished a fight and carried the wounded to her tent. Charming surprised her as the Captain sat by the tent and smiled at her.

At night, she was Dr. Ziegler again, talking to a wonderful friend. Just in a couple nights, they had managed to catch up despite the many years they were far apart. It was one part of the past that she did welcome.

But of course the Captain was connected to the other parts that Dr. Ziegler wished to forget, and where she had already been a part of the good, the Captain never had her chance. She still spoke of Overwatch with softness in her voice, dreams from long ago that shattered when everything burned to the ground. Dr. Ziegler could still see her holding onto the presence of old soldiers long gone, and wondered if the Raptora's color was something Captain Amari chose or if she simply approved. They were her family too.

Her secret ate at her every time their thoughts turned to previous days. She could see the Captain doing well with the newly-reborn team, to the point where her own sense of justice might prevent another fall. The stubbornness and battle-prowess the Captain managed to carry on her wings would help Overwatch to no end, as would her charm and kindness.

One night, she had managed to speak up about the unwanted recall. The Captain's eyes were a mixture of emotion that she could not decipher.

They discussed-argued-about it through most of the night, though Captain Amari never raised her voice. She did not need to. Her points were precise and clear, Dr. Ziegler was the one who could not understand again.

“You should think about it,” the Captain said while paused in the exit, her eyes pained at the sight of Dr. Ziegler's walls crumbling and revealing fear. “You could do them a lot of good, Angela. More than you think.”

She wished she could think about it but she remained there, heart stuck in her throat as Fareeha's voice rang in her head. Dr. Ziegler sat in her bed that night, staring at the ceiling and unable to sleep. For the first time in a long while, her name was said warmly. For the first time in a long while, her back did not hurt at the name's utterance. Not for the first time, her eyes welled with tears and she missed her family and the one she so willingly threw away.

“You should come with me,” Angela replied the next day.

  
-

 

Overwatch was the opposite of paradise, something Dr. Ziegler learned long ago, but the new operations still carried a lighter weight despite the overwhelming odds. It was still illegal for many of the previous members to even be in the same room and yet old friendships met in the dark of night, sharing hot drinks and memories.

At first, it felt like torture to Dr. Ziegler, as she had to face some of her greatest regrets. Her doctor persona served her well however, and she was able to keep the biting questions down as she looked over Genji's suit, glanced too long at Jesse's arm, or even seen Torbjörn.

She had to wall herself while stabilizing the remaining few that were capable of fighting for the world.

And yet it did not stop the Captain.

She would walk in at hours that Dr. Ziegler was not paying attention to and nudge her over to the mess hall. Early mornings and late night regrets had the Captain meeting her in the kitchen with an extra cup of coffee, just how she liked it. She would even foolishly hurt herself only to come into Dr. Ziegler's office with a grin and a cheeky remark, even when it was just a light scratch, all because she knew Dr. Ziegler would not let her stay in her office otherwise.

If she were capable, Angela would have said that the jokes and the visits were flirting.

But her back itched, burned, with pain and sorrow and overwhelming guilt.

She decided long ago that she had caused enough pain. She would not drag down the one person who made her feel lighter, above the clouds, even without the Valkyrie suit.

With the suit, however, the two made an inseparable pair: Mercy and Pharah, and her back felt light as another's wings lifted her higher.

With Pharah, Mercy was able to reach vantage points and fly quickly to anyone who had strayed from the group and needed help. If the doctor called it, the Captain would execute their plan flawlessly, providing cover fire and planning an escape route, even if her shining cobalt suit attracted the worst kinds of attention.

It left Mercy with determination and allowed her to finally reach those who were injured in rough spaces.

But Dr. Ziegler criticized the slight recklessness in some of the gestures. Even though she trusted Pharah with her life, there were times where close sniper fire and misplaced rockets happened and it would cause her heart to leap out of her chest and her wings to burn as if they were fire. Yet Pharah remained calm, unless there was a quiet moment and she would turn and her mouth would quirk up into a smile that flared up Dr. Ziegler's anger. Or at least, her temperature, as the Valkyrie system would pick up on her heated face.

Even after the battle, after Dr. Ziegler patched up those in need, that smile would be there again, waiting in front of her office door with a bottle of water and a question of how she was feeling.

“We can't have a doctor get sick now can we?”

The point was sound but...

She couldn't understand it all.

Until Lena started smirking at her as she thanked Fareeha for the coffee.

“What?” She sharply whispered, unnerved by her old friend's gaze.

“You two are so cute,” Lena simply giggled. “You guys remind me of me and Em!”

Oh.

Dr. Ziegler could feel her face heat up and her stomach twisted with something that she refused to believe was embarrassment.

“I,” her voice cracked despite her throat being completely fine. “I do not know what you mean.”

“Aw, see? You get all flustered about her!” Lena smiled and twirled her fork in her hand. “Don't worry any, doc. It's okay to get flustered around cute girls!”

Something within her willed Dr. Ziegler to slap a hand over Lena's mouth, just in case Fareeha would overhear.

It proved to be a bad idea, since the Brit licked her hand in response.

“Lena!”

“Ugh, that was bad,” Lena twisted her face before gulping down some water. “Sorry Doc, instinct. But really, you two work well together. Maybe give it some thought, yeah?”

So she did.

Night after night, long after the subject of her troubled thoughts had walked her to her room, Dr. Ziegler would lie there and analyze everything she could. Occam's razor, she decided, was not as reliable as others said it was. All mild symptoms pointed towards a more emotional problem than she usually thought of. Or more she didn't want to think of.

The sorrow on her back only lifted when Fareeha would approach her as she always did. She would catch herself smiling long after Fareeha had left. Pharah's suit always caught her glance as her breath would get caught in her throat.

She was in love.

Angela was in love, despite every part of her that screamed that she did not deserve it. Except for the words on her back, which only lessened its pain as the revelation clicked in her mind.

Angela cried that night even though she had not slept enough for a nightmare.

She had believed that enough makeup and coffee would get her through the coming day as it had during university, however, she had overlooked the very variable that occupied her mind.

Fareeha walked into the kitchen with brief surprise before exchanging the look for harsh suspicion. The doctor said good morning, but only glanced at her once, trying to prevent her eyes from straying as she knew they would, and repeating to herself the phrase that stuck with her last night: Fareeha deserved better.

She deserved someone who could fight alongside her without casting disgust upon drawing a weapon. She deserved someone who was emotionally stable, who could help with the nightmares and worries. She deserved someone who could help her protect life instead of trailing guilt, regret, and death behind them. She deserved someone who did not lie to her when she asked if they were okay.

“Angela,” her back burned as Fareeha sighed. “I know you're lying. If you can't trust me, that's fine, but do take care of yourself.” Her hand moved over Angela's, which was shaking.

“I...I do trust you,” she managed to choke out. “I just...”

Fareeha's gaze softened and it hit Angela's heart. She did not deserve someone so kind or so strong, who wrapped her in a hug and made her believe she would not let go.

“Deep breaths…” She gently soothed the sadness welling in Angela. “You'll be okay.”

She wasn't okay for a moment and in her emotional state, she admitted her closed-off heart.

“I like you Fareeha. I just don't want...” Her parents, her disintegrated relationship with Torbjörn, Jack, Gabriel, Ana. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Fareeha's mouth quirked up before settling down.

“You won't. You haven't.” She smoothed down a part of Angela's unruly hair. “You care deeply about your friends, your family. To the point where you're willing to chase them down and tell them how stupid they can be while you heal them. To the point where you hide your own problems in favor of others.”

Angela tried to speak up, but Fareeha's look cut her argument off.

“I know you don't get good sleep, don't hide it further. It's not uncommon; nightmares.” She sighed before smiling and building warmth in Angela's chest. “But it's okay.”

She didn't believe it was, but if there was one thing she could believe in, it was Fareeha.

* * *

 

When she was younger, she was fearless. Limits were challenges: sneaking off with a packet of sweets, climbing the highest tree, and visiting a young man with a Stetson. Her mother often warned her of things she should not do, but if her mother did them, so could she. She was destined to be great, powerful, and protect all, a couple broken bones were nothing despite her tears' best efforts to say otherwise.

Her mother would still sit and look over her wounds with a sharp eye, click her tongue, and bring her close for either a story or a lecture. She infinitely loved the stories more than the lectures, but her mother so often opened her mind more to the world every time a lecture clicked. A rough hand would reach out to pull her away from fire and towards adventure and she always looked forward to it.

Cuts and bruises meant little in the grand scheme of things, Fareeha decided early. Her mother would stop her before too much damage could be done and more often than not, her excursions ended up helping someone. And that's all she wanted to do.

Her mother was a hero, Reinhardt was a hero, Gabriel was a hero, Jack was a hero, and she wanted to be one. Her announcements and declarations were often met with laughter or smiles and she honestly did not know whether to think of that as a victory or not. It wasn't until later that the smiles became sadder and the laughter more hollow, but at the moment, she enjoyed making people “happy”. It was a natural to see her walking around and cracking jokes at anyone who passed by. Adults were too gloomy sometimes, but at the time she still was not allowed to know why.

But her mother never accounted on her finding out on her own, even if it didn't completely click at once.

Little things, like spiked coffee, rings under eyes, tired laughter, all started piling up overtime, letting her see tears, nightmares, and pure panic.

The heroes needed a hero, so she tried her best to continue onward. Despite the length of her limbs feeling too long, her sudden spikes of growth, and harsher environments, she still carried that unspoken promise for years. But when she finally spoke of it, a casual comment on the recruitment of the Egyptian army across a small table, things only grew harder as her mother's gaze grew heated.

She forbid her from joining any sort of military, which barred her entry to Overwatch completely and churned anger and fire in Fareeha's chest.

Her mother, a hero, would not allow her daughter to follow in her steps. For once, Fareeha could not understand her mother, her choice. Everything she did, her mother walled off, preventing her from feeling like her own choice was something she could choose.

But then her 18th birthday rocked the heated arguments and burning pain in her heart. On her 18th birthday, like any others, the final words of her soulmate appeared. Stretched across her back, the messy scrawl of English spread, and Fareeha's eyes widened.

She gripped the counter until her knuckles were pale, tears threatening to break into sobs. The words across her back might have been hopeful in other situations, but the bittersweet taste rolled over her tongue. When she was younger, and did not quite understand death, she thought that soulmates would last forever, much like her mother's love. But as she looked back on the words, she smiled. If her soulmate had such hope, then Fareeha would make sure to carry it until her last breath, and she would make sure that it would never be too soon.

“You will be okay, Fareeha.”

  
-

 

It was not easy, but the path she tread, she made sure, was fulfilling. Her mother had passed, on the field and with no body to speak of, and Fareeha laid her to rest with a promise to make her proud. The military gave no leniency, after all, she was the child of the world's greatest sniper but she was also her own woman. It gave her a mixed bag of feelings, one she tried to drown out as much as she could as it would definitely not help on the battlefield if she suddenly could not breathe when sadness choked her heart. She simply added it to the weight on her back and carried on.

Her determination ended up completing any mission she was sent on. Exemplary, some of her commanding officers commented, while others stood in her face and told her instead “Expected of an Amari”. It took her all of her will not to snap back, but to instead advance past them.

She was an Amari, but she was also her own woman, one who would live no matter what.

  
-

 

She was a powerful force in battle, they started to say. Someone who turned tides of fate and changed many others' goodbyes into “welcome homes”. And yet, she was still honorably discharged. The “honorably” felt silent though as her legs collapsed underneath her weight.

Fareeha was out of control of her path for a while, her feet misstepping whenever she tried to go off the path the doctors recommended. It felt frustrating and humiliating. Whenever she wasn't focusing on her recovery, she thought back to previous battles and previous losses. She remembered bullets and explosions that shook her core and rocketed her heart rate to the point where the monitors alerted the nurses. But she was fine. Wounded, but they closed after months.

She was finally able to walk out of the hospital and back to her apartment where the doors for her future closed again.

Overwatch was no more. Her aim was shaken. Her mother was alive. No matter what the words along her back said, she did not feel like it was going to be okay.

She felt aimless during that time, too much energy to be contained inside of a room, looking at articles and job offerings. Her feet turned to walking out in town, helping anyone along the way who needed it. It usually ended up with a couple scratches or bruises for the morning, but she would never turn away when someone thought they could bully another. She met peculiar people that way.

One was an old woman who specialized in tea making for any occasion. Because of her insistence after Fareeha caught some of her packages before they fell, they both had a cup of tea together. Admittedly, she had not had one since she left her mother's care. When the woman asked, Fareeha chuckled and omitted that she tended to add sweets to her tea that drove her mother crazy. That night it made her think of an Omnic pair that she had met and called the number on their business card. Fortunately, they knew someone who specialized in tattoos.

  
-

 

With the Udjat under her eye, she had taken wing underneath Helix International. Quite literally as her history in college and in the military signed her up automatically towards the Raptora project. Not much but crude designs and brief ideas were shared, as they only intended her to pilot it, but had her interest hooked.

During the development of the new line of suits, they had her squad run exercises, tests, and basic greetings. It felt silly almost to open up to them, so she stayed professional, they had their missions to complete after all. But there was something special about the group, much like a group of birds in the sky. They each had their own ways of dealing with the suit and flight, it was rather dizzying to think of the strategic possibilities. The Captain managed to adapt the most, offering a hand to those who needed it. Lieutenant Amari did not need it.

Their names came easily, as did their codenames, when they were sent on their first mission.

The second had one different name.

The third had more.

The fourth nearly took her life as one blew up beside her.

The fifth made a smaller change.

The sixth, she made herself stop counting.

Missions came and went, but each one benefited the Raptora, whether or not the rest of her squad believed it. The Captain met her with a tight frown and a tired sigh, but she knew not to budge. They were helping the world by following the missions. Even those fallen had helped, and engrained their names into her mind whether she liked it or not. At times, she would close her eyes and thank them for their service. Other times, she would jolt up in bed and her back felt as if it were on fire. As if the jets on her back were hit and redirected their force right across her shoulder blades.

As if the wings she carried herself on were clipped.

She stumbled out of her quarters and into the large room that connected her squad together. Her body was coated in sweat despite her __ to the heat, and her head felt heavy. Echoes of the past ringed in her ears as she grabbed a bottle of water, making her miss the footsteps behind her.

“Horus, right?”

Her body tensed as she was knocked out of her thoughts by the voice and presence that joined her.

“Udjat, the eye of horus. Protection,” Okoro hummed. “I assume it would look better without bags under your eyes.”

His tone was light, as if weary of treading to close to the “cold, calculated Lieutenant” as some of them called her. She snorted.

“Just a rough night, Okoro, I will be back in bed shortly.”

And yet he stayed there as the silence between them grew, leaning against the counter as she downed the water. It felt slightly unnerving, not knowing if he wanted her to speak or if he was trying to think. She was a hardened soldier, one who had taken many lives and great leaps for the sake of the world, and yet she felt awkward towards interaction between coworkers. Perhaps it was because she did not want to think of fallen coworkers' lives. The very thought made her back burn again and she tossed the empty bottle in the trash.

As she turned to leave for her bunk, he spoke up again.

“It is not uncommon, you know? Nightmares?” Okoro looked up from the wall he had been staring at and the writing on her back tingled. “It is nothing to be ashamed of, Lieutenant Amari.”

She unconsciously clenched her fist.

“I know, Okoro.”

He waited a moment as her tension faded.

“I'm always available if you need someone to listen. I promise I don't just dream of electric sheep.” His voice lifted in humor, letting her know she was free to laugh. She chuckled.

“I'm sure you don't. It's just a bit personal.”

“When is it not? But it's what makes you you.” Okoro seemed to be smiling. “And I know that if you care that much about people, you are a good person.”

She flinched slightly.

“How did-”

“It is not uncommon in soldiers,” Okoro repeated. “Nightmares, that is.”

“Ah,” she said, unsure of what to say. He seemed to take it as acknowledgment.

“Remember, I'm always available. We have to stick together in these times…” His voice trailed off as the weight of recent anti-omnic activity popped in her mind. “Ah, and if I am not, I'm certain the rest of the squad will be happy to.” It made her nod towards him.

“I will keep that in mind, thank you Okoro.”

“No need to thank me,” he asserted. “I merely wish look out for you all...” He seemed almost embarrassed. “Everyone is like a family here.”

She paused, a small piece of her mind clicking. A family. She had already lost one, she could not cling to another. But her family wanted what was good for the world and as luck would have it, so did this one.

“Okoro?” She chuckled. “I agree.”

  
-

 

The man or the mission?

The man or the mission?

The man or the mission, Fareeha?

The question rocked in her mind as the Omnics closed in and Anubis towered above them and her family was in shambles again.

Tariq was going to be crushed, Saleh was shot, the Captain was gone, Okoro took his own life to protect them.

_His family._

Her family.

She abandoned the clear shot at Anubis to instead grab Tariq.

Justice did not need the protection. It did not need their missions. It did not need her chasing after the criminals first and leaving the victims behind to thank her later. Justice was the protector.

She needed to protect the innocent, not just punish the guilty.

And as she looked back on the graves of the fallen, she made them a promise to. Later she chuckled, watching Tariq and Saleh squabble over dinner, and wondered if she should start keeping a list of large promises she made.

  
-

 

Captain Amari did not expect one promise she made to herself come true, however. After having met Dr. Angela Ziegler, a whole new aspect of life crept up into her heart. She found herself joking with the doctor more, stopping by to check on her more times than needed, and even bringing out meals for her because more often than not, she found that the doctor was really bad at taking care of herself. “More” was the whole crux of it, she simply did more when the doctor was involved, something that her squad took notice of.

“Soooo,” Saleh slid over during dinner with a smug smirk. “Heard you were with Dr. Victoria?”

The Captain blinked for a moment before remembering the doctor's fake name.

“Ah yes, she needed assistance carrying a patient and there was no nurse nearby.” A partial lie, she was checking up on the doctor when she saw her lift a patient with great care. The sight of the man being quite larger than her prompted Captain Amari to ask if she needed help. Angela answered with a snort before laying the man down on a clean cot and insisting that she was fine.

“Riiiight,” he drawled out and nudged her side. “But don't you want to be “with” her?”

His smirk only grew as her blush did and she placed a heavy hand on his shoulder to prevent him from standing up and shouting to the squad that their Captain had a crush.

“Tell anyone and I'll make sure you suffer.” The threat was slightly exaggerated, but she had before called them out for harsh training regimens and cleaning duty so Saleh shivered and backed off.

The thought never escaped her though, merely adding onto the attraction she felt. She tried shaking it off but something felt different this time. The jets on her back felt weightless and the skies above were clear.

Even when she found out about Angela's disagreement towards the recall. She had her reasons, Mercy was a hard title to keep when you had to harm others to heal, and Captain Amari respected that. Amari was a difficult title too, after all.

But as she saluted them, her squad did not seem to care that she was an Amari, but that she was Pharah. Helix signed her request fast and quickly brushed the statement under the rug, which was surprising but good. Her team also reasonably responded to the idea, copying her salute before each giving her their goodbyes.

“Be sure to write, alright?!” Saleh screamed over the sounds of the engines with his trademark stupid grin. “I'll be sure to take care of these clowns!”

“I'm sure you won't let me clown!” She smirked and boarded the aircraft before the groans reached her ears.

“That was terrible. You're terrible.” Angela stood beside her, holding back her laughter but failing to stop her smile that made Fareeha spew as many puns as she could as they made their way to Gibraltar. Each one managed to pull Angela further into the playful mood and lifted Fareeha's heart further.

  
-

 

Mercy and Pharah were terrors among the new recruits, being able to synchronize their patterns together to reach new heights both literally and metaphorically. Mercy, with her ability to heal and empower Pharah, found safety whenever Pharah was near. Pharah, with her might and her will, found peace and comfort whenever the Caduceus staff locked onto her. She battled within before sighing and admitting to herself that it was because she knew Mercy was still alive and fighting.

It was a peculiar feeling at first, it almost felt like the duo were invincible together. But nothing was invincible, nor perfect. Fareeha learned that long ago.

Angela avoided her gaze that morning, but she knew the doctor well enough to know that she had not slept well. Her eyes, though she did not get a better look, seemed to be red and puffy.

Fareeha could only guess, as she often did with the doctor and prayed that she could say something right, that the doctor had a nightmare.

She might have been wrong, but it did not matter as Angela's words made her heart flutter but soon plummet back down. Angela liked her; the statement echoed in her mind but she shoved it aside to instead pull the doctor into a hug. Angela's cries made the words on Fareeha's back gain weight, as if her tears were rain weighing down wings. But they would fly again.

They were not invincible. Far from it, but-

“You will be okay, Angela.”

They were going to be okay.


End file.
